


The Price Of Beauty

by TinkerBella



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-18
Updated: 2014-08-18
Packaged: 2018-02-13 18:16:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2160348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TinkerBella/pseuds/TinkerBella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This piece is a bit of D'Artagnan whump with a bit of angst and a whole lot of brotherly love.   I am addicted to these things.   Basically, D'Artagnan gets kidnapped for not good purposes and the boys come to the rescue.   Along with a surprise rescuer thrown into the mix.  Oh, and King Louis is very fond of D'Artagnan.   Maybe someday they could become friends and stuff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Price Of Beauty

King Louis had insisted on a hunt. Despite the fact that there had been a rash of attacks on the rich and elite by a group of raiders that had eluded capture thus far, Louis believed himself to be safe. He was the King, after all. Besides which he had his Musketeers to protect him, with the added insurance of the Cardinal's Red Guard. 

 

So, despite the warnings from the Cardinal and Captain Treville, the King got his way and they were in the woods, hunting deer. A dozen Red Guard, eight Musketeers, including the King's four favorites, the King, the Cardinal and the Cardinal's guest, Madame Gigi, Duchess of Roth.

 

Madame GiGi had married the Duke of Roth thirty years ago at the age of eighteen. She had arrived in Paris just six months before and the Duke had caught sight of her and fallen madly in love despite being outrageously older at seventy-eight. Not surprisingly, they'd never had children. Also, not surprisingly, he had died after two years of marriage. He'd had no other heirs, since the children he'd had with his first wife had died before him. So Madame GiGi had inherited everything.

 

Falling back on her gypsy roots, she had spent the past thirty years traveling from place to place. Visiting friends and family, was her explanation to those who dared ask. She had met the Cardinal twenty years ago and they had formed a friendship of sorts. Or, more specifically, a mutually beneficial business acquaintanceship.

 

Although she was disgustingly wealthy, Madame GiGi wanted more, and she achieved her goal in a way that would shock and horrify most people, be they gentry or peasant. Not that she cared, for she kept her business matters private. But to those who were trusted, they knew her preference to be called Madame GiGi was a play on titles. For she was the Madame of the most exclusive whorehouse in all of France. 

 

Madame GiGi provided a service unlike any other. She traveled with a group she called family but were, in truth, her merchandise. Men and Women that she sold to the highest bidder be it for a few hours, a few nights or for as long as they lasted. She was unique in one other way as well. Everyone had a type, and Madame GiGi made it her business to give her clientele exactly what they wanted. Male or female, light or dark, exotic or generic. She scoured France to get the perfect merchandise. 

 

But today she sat beside the Cardinal, in a gilded chair beneath the shade of a big tree, watching as the King attempted to hunt. She found herself amused at his attempts, but hid her smile behind her bejeweled fan. She had arrived in Paris just that morning and had only just been ushered in before the Cardinal when Louis had arrived and demanded to go hunting. 

 

The King had taken a liking to Madame GiGi. She knew he liked that she was still charming and attractive for her age and, it was easy to please him with flattery. She praised his looks and his hunting skills, as well as his fashion choices. Beneath her compliments King Louis absolutely preened.

 

But now he was stalking through the woods, guarded by Musketeers and Red Guard alike, making enough noise to wake the dead. So his attempts to sneak up on a buck who had been feeding a short ways up an incline who doomed to failure.

 

Sitting up above them were Aramis and Porthos, both of them making ongoing sarcastic commentary as they watched over the King. 

 

Below them and the King were Athos and D'Artagnan. 

 

Athos watched the younger Musketeer shift in his saddle, eyes darting about him, head swiveling, in constant motion. After a time he drawled, "Musketeers do not fidget."

 

"What?" D'Artagnan had been so focused on the King and his surroundings that he had nearly forgotten about Athos' presence. But a moment later it registered what the other man had said. Frowning, D'Artagnan replied, "I am not fidgeting."

 

"What would you call it then?" Athos prompted, amusement shining in his blue eyes. He was keeping track of the King as the spoke, but years of practice made it easy for him to multi-task. And he was truly interested in what it was that was distracting the young Musketeer.

 

D'Artagnan sighed and tried to think of how to best answer the question. "I...I'm uneasy. Something doesn't feel right."

 

Athos took D'Artagnan's words to heart. He trusted the Gascon's instincts. But before he could inquire further, they both startled at a crackling sound.

 

"Up there!" D'Artagnan had followed the sound to the trees and he spotted a figure in the branches. "In the trees!" he shouted. "Protect the King!" 

 

His warning sent the other Musketeers, along with the Red Guard into action. The Guard surrounded the King along with the Cardinal and the Duchess of Roth, although she had her own personal guard. A big Romanian Gypsy named Bolo, who drew his own blades.

 

"Help protect the King," Madame GiGi ordered him, knowing that to do so would work in her own favor. 

 

And in that instant the raiders appeared, at least a dozen of them dropping from the trees with still more swarming in from ground level. 

 

D'Artagnan wheeled his horse about and slashed at a raider who tried to drop down on him from above. The man fell to the forest floor in a heap and was still. Moving forward, D'Artagnan saw his fellow Musketeers holding their own, so he searched for the King. He saw the Red Guard who should have been protecting Louis, dealing with Raiders. So the King was cowering against a tree where a raider was about to drop down on him. Thankful that he had an extra dagger stuck in his boot, D'Artagnan launched it at the raider, scoring a direct hit. The man dropped to the ground like a stone and was still.

 

The King let out a high-pitched scream as the raider landed at his feet, but then he looked up and saw D'Artagnan riding for him, looking relieved as he recognized who had saved him. Just then Aramis and Porthos appeared, moving to stand guard before the King. Which meant they had him well protected, so D'Artagnan reacted to a sudden scream to his left. 

 

Wheeling his horse about, he galloped toward the raider who was about to attack the Duchess of Roth. Launching himself from the saddle, D'Artagnan tackled the raider to the ground. They both rolled to their feet and a short sword-fight ensued with D'Artagnan coming out victorious. 

 

Another raider appeared to take his place, a seemingly endless supply. D'Artagnan took him down, then another. Until he suddenly realized there were no more. He glanced about and saw over a dozen bodies littered about, even as a few raiders ran off. 

 

Athos appeared at his side, clapping him on the shoulder. "Are you all right?"

 

D'Artagnan nodded. "I'm good. You?" He studied the older man for any sign of injuries.

 

"I'm well." Athos looked over D'Artagnan's shoulder. "One of the raiders is alive and the Cardinal has ordered the Red Guard to take him back for questioning. Perhaps we will be able to end their reign of terror soon."

 

"We can hope," D'Artagnan replied. As much as he loved getting into the thick of things, he did not like that so many were put into danger and losing so much at the hand of these relentless raiders. Even if it were the rich, who probably could afford their losses. As a Musketeer he felt it was his duty to protect everyone. 

 

Athos nodded. "Let's join up with the others, I want Aramis and Porthos to take the King back to the Palace."

 

Without warning Madame GiGi appeared before them, as if conjured up from thin air. The Cardinal was with her and her body guard was shadowing behind her. She stopped directly in front of D'Artagnan. "I wish to thank you, Musketeer. You saved my life."

 

"I did my job, Madame," D'Artagnan replied, inclining his head in respect.

 

"What is your name, brave Musketeer?" Madame GiGi queried, her eyes roving over him.

 

He cleared his throat and replied, "D'Artagnan."

 

Madame GiGi reached for his hand, clutching it in both of hers. "I am in your debt, you beautiful boy," she praised him. "And my debt will be paid."

 

"There is no need," D'Artagnan was quick to reassure her, even as he cursed the blush that colored his cheeks at her compliment. And he wondered if it would be impolite to tug his hand out of her grasp. He felt distinctly uncomfortable at this moment. Much to his good luck, there was a flurry of movement beside them, interrupting any response Madame GiGi might have made. 

 

King Louis was flushed and smiling and practically bouncing with delight as he interrupted them. "I chose well in making him one of my Musketeers," he pronounced, pointing at D'Artagnan. "Did I not, Cardinal?"

 

"Indeed," the Cardinal drawled, looking like he wanted to choke. "You are a wise King."

 

"I am," Louis conceded, but that was all he spoke for in the next instant his eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed as if he were a Marionette whose strings had just been cut.

 

If not for Porthos , who had been trailing the King along with Aramis, jumping in to catch him, King Louis would have hit the ground face first. 

 

With all the fuss over the King, D'Artagnan took the opportunity to fade away, Athos close behind him. Moments later Aramis and Porthos were with them, Aramis explaining that the Cardinal had insisted that he and his Red Guard would be in charge of bringing the King safely home.

 

"Well done today, D'Artagnan," Aramis praised their youngest, as they rode back to the Garrison. 

 

"Thank you." D'Artagnan felt a swell of pride at the others, who were all smiling at him. He was just doing his job and his duty, but it felt good to have their support and trust and to know that they believed in him. It mattered more than he could ever convey.

 

Porthos moved up beside him, one big hand clapping the Gascon on the shoulder and nearly toppling him off his horse. "Now let's go celebrate. The drinks are on Athos!" With that he touched his heels to his own mount and galloped off.

 

Aramis chuckled before following.

 

Athos said nothing as he and D'Artagnan continued on at a more sedate pace. Although D'Artagnan knew the other man would, indeed buy the wine tonight. It would be a good celebration and the perfect end to what D'Artagnan considered to be a very good day.

 

* * *

 

The next morning looked to be another good day, D'Artagnan noted, as he joined the others at the Garrison table for breakfast. Aramis had collected some fine pastries from a baker woman who had a weakness for his smile, and they were all enjoying the sweet treat. 

 

But their meal was cut short when Treville called them up to his office. The four Musketeers lined up in front of his desk, expectant looks upon their faces.

 

"I have no mission for you today," Treville announced, looking amused at their varied reactions. Porthos looked disappointed, Aramis looked pleased, Athos looked amused and their youngest looked crestfallen. Treville thought the Gascon might even be pouting.

 

"Have we done something wrong then?" Aramis queried, before choking back a cry as Porthos thumped him hard on the back. No doubt in warning not to bring it up as an option, thereby giving Treville a reason to be suspicious.

 

But the Captain was simply amused. "Surprisingly, for once, none of you are in any trouble. In fact, I've brought you in here to bear witness to a rather memorable occasion." Stepping around his desk, Treville moved to stand before D'Artagnan. "King Louis had a gift sent this morning. For you."

 

D'Artagnan was beyond stunned. "A gift...for me? But...what for?" He couldn't imagine, in his wildest dreams, why the King would send him a gift.

 

"I believe it's his way of thanking you for saving his life yesterday," Treville replied.

 

"But we all had a hand in that," D'Artagnan protested. In no way should he be singled out.

 

Treville shrugged, as he reached for an item on his desk and held it out to the young Gascon. "Be that as it may, the King wishes for you to accept this small token of his appreciation."

 

With a trembling hand, D'Artagnan accepted the gift. It was a dagger incased in a bejeweled leather sheath. He pulled it out and gasped at the elaborate craftsmanship of the exquisite blade. Hefting it in the palm of his hand, D'Artagnan realized it was weighted perfectly. The handle looked to be carved of Ivory and inlade with mother of pearl, and the blade was honed to a perfect point and glimmered with an almost blinding silver finish. He looked up at Treville. "I...I can't accept this. It must be worth a fortune."

 

"I'm sure that it is," Treville allowed. "But you must accept it, D'Artagnan, and graciously so. To do otherwise would be an insult to the King."

 

"Of course." D'Artagnan felt the blade being lifted from his hands and he let Porthos take it. He and Aramis both looked impressed as they studied it. "Why would the King give me such a gift?" He truly could not understand the reasoning behind it.

 

Athos was the one who answered him. "For whatever reason, the King favors you. It is not a bad thing to be in his favor. In fact, someday it may prove quite useful."

 

D'Artagnan heard what Athos was saying, but he found it hard to accept. Still, he found himself nodding. "You're right. What do I do now?" He wondered if he should send his thanks to the King and said as much.

 

"Let King Louis make the next move," Treville advised. "He tends to be a bit moody, so it's best to simply follow his lead. For now, enjoy your gift. It was made by a true master." And with that, he dismissed them.

 

* * *

 

After the fuss and bother of the hunt yesterday, the Cardinal and Madame GiGi were finally able to find a moment alone in his chambers. They had discussed the business dealing she had originally come to Paris to talk about, and now she had other interests she wished to discuss.

 

Sitting at a table by the window, sipping a cup of tea, Madame GiGi broached her a new subject. "That Musketeer, D'Artagnan, he is a beautiful boy. Exquisite really. I have many clients that would pay a fortune for him and, in the interim, he could warm my bed."

 

Not a wisp of shock crossed the Cardinal's face, for he knew his friend and her tastes well. "Be that as it may," he drawled. "The Musketeers are quite fond of him, as is the King. He would be missed." Himself, on the other hand, would not miss the Gascon boy in the least. 

 

"I would make him disappear without a fuss," Madame GiGi countered, looking almost insulted that he would think otherwise. 

 

"Enlighten me." The Cardinal looked intrigued.

 

Smiling, Madame GiGi revealed her secret. "Those Raiders? They are my men. The ones who escaped are gypsies, ever hiding in the shadows. You will never see them, never catch them. The ones who died were customers who owed me for services rendered."

 

The Cardinal was a bit put off by this revelation, but at the same time he was not all that surprised. "And the man we captured and questioned?" Who happened to be dead now. He had not withstood the torture long and had died without revealing a thing. In fact, he had done little more than scream the entire time.

 

"A customer, nothing more," Madame GiGi replied. "He would have told you nothing, even had he lived. He didn't know anything to tell."

 

"I see." Templing his fingers, the Cardinal tapped them against his chin as he considered his options. "I'm not against you taking D'Artagnan. He's a bit of a thorn in my side and with Louis taking a sudden interest in him, he's likely to get in my way. But in return I ask that you cease your raids against the highborn here in Paris and the surrounding countryside. Go elsewhere if you must, but not here."

 

Madame GiGi laughed softly, amusement dancing in her dark eyes. "Not even if I share my profits?" she queried.

 

It was a tempting offer, well enough, but the Cardinal declined. "It is better if you simply move on. All the more so if you're going to take the Gascon boy with you. He has enough of a reputation that it would be in your best interest to put as much distance as you can between him and Paris."

 

"As you wish," she replied, a satisfied smile curving her lips as she refreshed her tea. "Pleasure doing business with you, Cardinal. As always."

 

"Indeed," he replied, a smile of his own curving his thin lips. For soon he would be rid of the youngest Musketeer, and in the aftermath of his disappearance, the way would be open for him to insinuate doubt into the mind of the King about his precious Musketeers.

 

* * *

 

 

The Musketeers were sequestered in the woods just outside of Paris. One of the Red Guard had informed the Cardinal that he'd overheard a conversation in a Tavern. There was to be a raid on the Comte and Comtessa Duvall, as they travelled from the countryside into Paris. So the King had ordered the Musketeers and the Red Guard to capture the Raiders once and for all. 

 

So here they were, waiting. Waiting and, quite frankly, bored.

 

"I don't think they're going to show up," Porthos commented, from his hiding place behind a huge oak tree. "That Red Guard who told the tale was probably drunk and imagined the whole thing."

 

"You could be right," Athos allowed, from his hiding place nearby. "But we have nothing better to do right now," he reminded them.

 

Aramis snorted. "I have many other things I could be doing right now."

 

Athos pinned him with a glare, since they were crouched next to each other. "Things more important than Musketeer business in the name of the King?" he inquired.

 

"No." Aramis heaved a deep sigh. "I suppose not."

 

"Shhhh!" D'Artagnan hissed at them, from his position just a few meters above them. "If you get any louder the Raiders are going to know we're here."

 

Athos chuckled softly, finding it amusing that D'Artagnan was the one to call them to task. "The boy is right," he stated, warning the others. "Let's do what we have been sent to do."

 

As if on cue an explosion went off close by, setting them all into motion. Another explosion soon followed and it didn't take long for them to realize that they were all becoming lost in a haze of heavy smoke.

 

"Smoke bombs!" Aramis hissed, before a fit of coughing took him over. 

 

"Branch out and stay low!" Athos ordered his men, before he too started coughing. 

 

It was impossible to see anyone and all sound was amplified around them. There were shouts and sounds of struggles and the harsh whinny of the horses before drum-like rumble of hoofbeats galloping off was heard. 

 

Porthos was closest to the sound. "The horses!" he shouted, trying to find his way through the smoke to where they had been tethered. But he found himself stumbling into another Musketeer, both of them holding their weapons at the ready. Realizing they were not the enemy, both men turned in search of their true opponents, but were unable to find them in the heavy gray haze. 

 

It continued on in such a manner, a forest filled with chaos, until at last the smoke began to clear and the Musketeers and Red guard soon realized that they were alone. No sign of the raiders. 

 

"What is going on?" Porthos looked angry as a bear as he found Athos and Aramis.

 

"I do not know," Athos replied, but the hair on the back of his neck prickled. Something was wrong. Suddenly it hit him. "Where is D'Artagnan?"

 

Aramis turned in a circle. "He has to be here somewhere. Maybe he went after the horses?" It was a logical assumption. D'Artagnan, they had come to learn, had a way with horses. Almost as if he could speak to the beasts and they truly understood him. 

 

Athos felt uneasy. "Spread out and search for him. I have a feeling we've been duped." Fear and anger warred within Athos as he entered the search. But at the end of an hour, when the horses had returned and the area had been searched, he knew that his fears were founded.

 

But it was Porthos who put those fears into words. "D'Artagnan is missing."

 

* * *

 

The King was in a good mood. He believed his Musketeers were taking care of the Raider problem, he had spent a delightful lunch with the Duchess of Roth before she had continued on her travels, and tonight dinner had been a feast of all his favorite things at the bequest of his beautiful Queen. 

 

So he was smiling as he entered the library in search of the Cardinal. He had a question for him. "Did D'Artagnan get the dagger I sent him?" he asked without preamble.

 

"I believe so, your highness," the Cardinal replied. 

 

"Do you think he liked it?" Louis was all aglee. "Did he say that he liked it? I bet he did. It's one of a kind and very beautiful."

 

The Cardinal lifted his eyes from the book he'd been reading. "Your Highness," he began.

 

Only for Louis to interrupt. "Send for him, Cardinal. I wish to ask him for myself."

 

"I am afraid I cannot do that," the Cardinal replied, as he set the book aside and moved to stand before Louis. 

 

"Why not?" Louis did not like to be told no.

 

The Cardinal heaved a dramatic sigh, for he needed to make this performance believable. "The news has been delivered to me, just moments ago, that young D'Artagnan has gone missing. It happened when they were sent to stop the raiders. It would appear they took him instead of treasure."

 

Louis was not happy to hear that, he quite liked the young Musketeer, them being of an age of all. At times Louis imagined they could become great friends and that D'Artagnan would regale him with stories of his many adventures, in the Kings' behalf, no less. He drew himself up to his full height, locked eyes with the Cardinal and commanded, "Find him!"

 

"Of course, your Majesty," the Cardinal replied. "At once."

 

* * *

 

D'Artagnan felt as if he were floating, then the sensation turned into a feeling of rocking, as if he were at sea on a ship. Only he knew that could not be the case, so he forced his eyes to open. Blinking hard to bring his surroundings into focus, D'Artagnan realized he was in an unfamiliar place. 

 

He was in a room, a room that appeared to be in motion. A small room with richly colored tapestries on the walls, a gilded mirror in the corner and taking up most of the space was a good-sized bed. Which he was lying on. 

 

Making the attempt to sit up, D'Artagnan found himself foiled when he came up short. Cursing, he took note of the fact that his wrists were bound to the head board. Which would explain why his shoulders ached. He was able to see about the room because he was propped up against several pillows, so he was relatively comfortable in that respect, but he was furious to find himself bound and trapped. What made him all the more angry is that he could not remember how he came to be here.

 

"You're awake," a familiar voice drawled.

 

"Madame GiGi?" D'Artagnan could not keep the surprise from his own voice as the Duchess of Roth approached him. "Where am I?" he demanded, before she could respond.

 

Moving to sit beside him, Madame GiGi reached out to brush a lock of hair from D'Artagnan's temple, tucking the dark strands behind his ear. "You're in my bed, beautiful," she replied. "I have much to teach you."

 

That confused D'Artagnan to the point that he wondered if perhaps he had suffered a concussion and this was all just a bad dream. "Teach me?" he echoed. "What do you mean? And how did I get here?" A better question might be why he was there.

 

"You will learn how to pleasure my clients, D'Artagnan," she purred, letting her fingertips brush over his face, trailing down his jawline until he pulled away. She simply laughed and let her hand come to rest on his chest. "I am in the business of carnal pleasures, beautiful. And you will be my prize possession. The merchandise that everyone will ask for."

 

"I'm not a possession!" D'Artagnan snarled. "Nor anyone's merchandise!" As Madame GiGi's hand trailed lower and lower, he began to catch on to her meaning. "You...you are a...a Madame?" The irony of the play on her name was not lost on him.

 

She leaned in to kiss him and he turned his face away. With a cold smile curving her lips, Madame GiGi grasped two handfuls of D'Artagnan's thick hair, holding him still so that she could claim his lips.

 

He struggled against her, tugging hard at his bindings, trying desperately to turn his head away, finally resorting to biting her. When she pulled back, screaming in fury, he felt a moment of pure satisfaction, until she back-handed him in the temple. D'Artagnan saw stars as he lost focus for a moment. She was a lot stronger than she looked.

 

"You will learn obedience, my beautiful boy," Madame GiGi whispered in his ear. "You will learn to please me and to please my clients."

 

"Never going to happen!" D'Artagnan vowed, with all the sincerity of his heart and soul. "I'm a Musketeer!" Not whatever she believed she could turn him in to.

 

Laughing softly, Madame GiGi patted his cheek condescendingly. "Pretty boys like you are not meant to be soldiers, "D'Artagnan. You were born beautiful to give pleasure to others. I will teach you to use the gifts that God gave you."

 

Anger washed over D'Artagnan, but it was threaded with fear. He didn't know where he was and he doubted the other Musketeers knew either, or they would already be here rescuing him. Tied up he was helpless. But he would not give up or give in. "I was born a farm boy with the heart of a Musketeer," he told her, unable to hide the pride that he felt. Becoming a Musketeer had been his greatest accomplishment in his young life. "I am one of the King's Muskateers and there is nothing you can do to me to change that." He glared at her as he spoke, and he spoke with the certainty born of faith and conviction.

 

"Those days are over, beautiful," Madame GiGi countered, her tone soft but lined with cold steel. "Now you are a whore. My whore. And do not cling to any hope that your friends will come and rescue you. They will search for you, of that I have no doubt, but they will never find you." 

 

"You're wrong," D'Artagnan shot back, without hesitation. For he knew his friends would not give up until they found him. He just had to pray that they would come sooner than later. Not that he intended to do what this mad woman intended for him. He would never give in to her wishes. She could not force him into becoming her play thing.

 

Although, apparently, she had every intention of trying. Fear rippled through D'Artagnan when Madame GiGi's fingers gripped either side of his shirt and tore it open. Once again D'Artagnan struggled against her, struggled to free himself from his bindings. But all he managed to do was tear the skin of his wrists, which reminded him of another time and place. Only then he had been bound to barrels of gun powder. He had managed to escape then and he would find away to do so now.

 

Madame GiGi let her fingertips dance over D'Artagnan's taut stomach, drifting ever lower despite his struggles and protests, until a sudden knock made them both jump.

 

"What is it?" Madame GiGi called out, impatience clear in her tone. She was not happy to be disturbed.

 

The door opened and a big man entered. D'Artagnan recognized him. Bolo. Madame GiGi's body guard. She went to him and they whispered together for a moment. When they parted, Bolo stepped out and Madame GiGi turned to follow. 

 

"I'll be back soon, D'Artagnan," she told him. "We'll pick up where I left off." With that she waved and disappeared, the door closing sharply behind her.

 

"Good riddance," D'Artagnan muttered, as he tried to shift himself further up on the bed. And it was in that moment that he realized something. When he had awakened it was to the sensation of rocking. That sensation had ceased during his confrontation with Madame GiGi. But now it was back again. He was moving. The room was moving. He wasn't in a house, he was in a big carriage. A big, moving, carriage. 

 

Letting his head fall back against the pillow, D'Artagnan fought the hopelessness that suddenly hit him like a punch in the gut. No wonder Madame GiGi was so certain the Musketeers would never find him. They were moving further and further away from them every minute.

 

* * *

 

Madame GiGi was not a happy woman. She did not like being sent for as if she were some servant. Yet, at the same time, she knew that the Cardinal would not have gone to the trouble to hunt her down and request her presence if it were not of great importance. So she mounted the horse that Bolo had prepared for her and, side by side, they returned to Paris.

 

* * *

 

After spending hours searching for D'Artagnan, the Musketeers returned to the Garrison, only to be called into Treville's office.

 

The Captain was not a happy man. "I take it you did not find any clues as to what happened to D'Artagnan?" he asked, as they stood before him.

 

"Nothing," Athos replied. He was angry and frustrated and holding tight reign on his emotions. At the moment he felt like lashing out at everyone and everything. 

 

"Then keep looking," Treville stated. "Look in places that make no sense, if need be. And even though I know that you are all motivated to find D'Artagnan, try harder still. The King has learned of his disappearance and he is very upset."

 

Aramis didn't hide his surprise. "It would appear that D'Artagnan is on his way to becoming King Louis' best friend."

 

Treville nodded. "They are of an age. I think the King envies D'Artagnan his skills and his adventures, as well as his freedom to have said adventures."

 

"That is a discussion for another time, I believe," Athos interjection, his tone as cold as his expression. "Right now we need to retrace what happened and rethink what we do know. "

 

"It's not as if we know much," Porthos pointed out. "If we believe the raiders took D'Artagnan, I still can't figure out why. What would they want with him?"

 

Aramis shrugged. "To recruit him?"

 

Athos shook his head. "If that were the case, why not choose one of us? No, I can't shake the feeling that he was targeted."

 

"The question is, by who?" Treville stated.

 

"Do you think he's still alive?" Porthos asked the question that none of them wanted to think about.

 

It was Athos who put that fear to rest. "There was no body to be found. If death was their intention, they would have simply killed him and left him behind. No, this is something else."

 

Aramis stroked his beard as he started pacing the room. "We need to consider who would have an interest in D'Artagnan. That might lead us to who and to why."

 

"Madame GiGi sure seemed to like him," Porthos offered. "She practically slobbered all over him at the hunt after he'd saved her."

 

"That she did," Athos confirmed, looking suddenly angry. "There was something off about her."

 

Moving to stand beside Athos, Aramis nodded. "Agreed. Something about her unsettles me. And I am, as you know, an excellent judge of character. Particularly when it comes to women."

 

Porthos rolled his eyes. "In your own mind, perhaps," he taunted.

 

"You're just jealous," Aramis drawled, smirking.

 

"We know she's friends with the Cardinal," Treville cut in, bringing them back to the issue at hand.

 

Athos made his way to the door, jamming his hat on his head as his eyes glowed with determination. "Let us go and see what we can find out about the Duchess of Roth." And with a swirl of his cape, he was gone.

 

* * *

 

The moment Madame GiGi was gone, D'Artagnan worked on freeing himself from his bonds. But all he managed to do was rub more skin off his wrists until they were raw. Although, after a time, he realized the pull of the rope was looser, allowing him to move about more freely. He was able, with a bit of sheer perseverance, to turn onto his knees which gave him better access to the rope. The bed was attached to the wall by a metal brace, that had bars in the center in a cross pattern. D'Artagnan realized it was like that to keep the bed from moving about the room while the carriage was in motion. 

 

Moving his fingers over the bars, it wasn't long before he found a sharp piece that would work well to sever the ropes. It took several minutes to get free and when D'Artagnan was finally able to climb off the bed, he found himself nearly collapsing to the floor. For a moment his head felt dizzy and his legs wobbly. He put his head down, breathed deep, and was finally able to rise.

 

A quick look about revealed no weapons to be found, including his own. D'Artagnan couldn't even locate his jerkin, which meant his Pauldron was missing as well. That fact gave him a moment of pause as he fought off disappointment and sorrow. He had worked hard for that insignia, and now it was gone. 

 

But he could weep over it's loss later. Right now he needed to escape. Maybe later he could confront Madame GiGi, on his terms this time, and get his Pauldron back. So first things first. D'Artagnan moved to the door at the back and opened it. He was thankful Madame GiGi hadn't felt the need to lock him in, of course she didn't expect him to be able to escape. He rather hoped it would soon be a rotten surprise for her to find him gone. 

 

Slipping out of the door, it was easy to jump down to the ground as the carriage wasn't moving with any great speed. In fact it was rather lumbering along so D'Artagnan found it easy to slip away into the shadows of the trees. But he hadn't gone far when he heard footsteps behind him. Whirling around he found himself face to face with a man holding a sword.

 

D'Artagnan cursed the fact that he had no weapon, but he readied himself for an attack none the less. Only before the man could take a step toward him, there was a sound like a thud and the man toppled over face down. He hit the ground hard and lay still.

 

Stepping out of the shadows was another figure. Slim and dressed in a riding skirt, with the hood of a cloak covering her hair and hiding her face in shadows.

 

"Who are you?" D'Artagnan challenged. After the day he'd been having, he didn't trust anyone.

 

"Have you forgotten so soon, D'Artagnan," replied a silkly voice. A familiar voice. "I'm your guardian angel." 

 

D'Artagnan was stunned. "Mildady DeWinter," he whispered. Athos had let her live, but she was to leave and never be seen or heard from again. "Why are you helping me?" None of this made sense.

 

She pushed back her hood as she stepped closer, her expression giving away nothing. "You can ask questions another time. There are others searching for you. If you wish to escape them, come with me now." She held out one hand, waiting for him to decide.

 

Hearing the sound of footsteps approaching, D'Artagnan knew he had only one option. So he took her hand and let her lead him through the trees. A moment later they reached her horse. He boosted her into the saddle then jumped on behind her. 

 

"Hold on tight," she beseeched him, pulling D'Artagnan's arms around her waist.

 

"Go!" he hissed, even as he gave in and held on of his own accord. A moment later they disappeared into the shadows.

 

* * *

 

They rode a path that seemed winding to D'Artagnan, but Milady knew exactly where she was going and soon they entered a clearing where a carriage awaited. 

 

Slipping off the horse, D'Artagnan reached for Milady and lifted her down. 

 

She turned to him with a smile. "Take the horse and return to Paris." As she spoke, another rider appeared making D'Artagnan reach for the sword that was no longer on his hip. But Milady waved away his concern. The rider held out a bundle which she took and held out to D'Artagnan.

 

"What is it?" he queried, even as the rider held out one more item that he quickly recognized. "My sword!" D'Artagnan leaped forward and snatched it from the rider's hand. 

 

"Along with your other belongings," Milady said, offering the bundle to him once more.

 

D'Artagnan tucked his sword beneath his arm and opened the cloth to see his all of his weapons accounted for. He was thrilled to have them back. But what pleased him even more was the sight of his pauldron. "Thank you for this," D'Artagnan said, with the utmost sincerity. But that didn't mean he wasn't confused and curious. "But why? Why help me? I betrayed you."

 

Milday DeWinter sighed. "I do believe, D'Artagnan, that we are even in that regard."

 

"That's not an answer," he countered, determined to learn the truth. "You've been my Guardian Angel several times in several ways. Why? What do you want from me?"

 

"There are times when we all do things without rhyme nor reason," Milady replied. "Consider this one of those times." 

 

D'Artagnan shook his head. "Not you," he insisted. 

 

She laughed then, a sound of pure delight. "You are learning, young D'Artagnan. Perhaps it is as simple a thing as knowing you are in my debt."

 

"I do not want to be in your debt," he countered fiercely. "How do I pay it and be done?" D'Artagnan felt actual fear at the thought of owing her anything. He knew how deadly she was, and what that could mean for his friends. For Athos in particular. He would protect them at any cost.

 

Before Milady could reply, another rider approached. "The gypsies are coming!" he announced.

 

Milady DeWinter turned to him. "Do what you can to turn them away," she ordered. Then she faced D'Artagnan again, reaching up with one hand to cup his cheek. She smiled almost wistfully and said, "You must go now. Hurry!"

 

"My thanks," D'Artagnan mumbled, stepping away and heading for the horse. He belted on his sword, slid his dagger and firearm into place then mounted. Without looking back he galloped off, grateful but worried.

 

* * *

 

Porthos was pacing length of the Garrison, back and forth without let up. "I can't believe we're just sitting here doing nothing! D'Artagnan is out there somewhere. We should be searching for him!"

 

"Where?" Athos snapped, moving to intercept Porthos so that the other man had to stop pacing or run him over. "Tell me where to look, Porthos. Tell me and I will gladly search time and again!" 

 

"Enough!" Aramis interjected himself between the two, knowing that their rage was not truly at each other. Worry for D'Artagnan was eating away at them all.

 

And is conjured up by the force of their desire, D'Artagnan cantered into their midst. 

 

Porthos saw him first and was calling his name even as he moved to the Gascon and practically lifted him off the horse. "Where have you been?" he asked, even as he crushed him in a bear hug.

 

"The Duchess of Roth kidnapped me," D'Artagnan replied, and his announcement was met with stunned silence. But not for long. They all had questions but D'Artagnan put them off. "I only want to tell the story once. Is Treville in his office?"

 

"He is," Athos confirmed, as he led the way up the stairs. 

 

Once inside, with door closed, D'Artagnan told them everything he knew. He was surprised by the fury his story evoked in his friends. He knew they weren't angry at him, but for him. They were angry in his behalf. The one detail he did not share about his escape, was the part Milady DeWinter played in it. D'Artagnan felt that it was better left for another time and, perhaps, for Athos' ears only.

 

Athos was the one pacing now. "That explains why we could not locate Madame GiGi," he stated. "We thought she might be involved some way. But never like this." He was angry beyond belief and could not hide it. "I will not let her walk away."

 

"Find her," Treville ordered. "Bring her here first. From what D'Artagnan has told us, there are others she has taken. I want to find everyone we can and free them. Then we will bring her before the King for punishment."

 

"We will attempt to do as you asked," Athos allowed. "I make no promises." He turned sharply on his heel and strode to the door.

 

Aramis and Porthos followed. But when D'Artagnan attempted to do the same, Athos blocked his way.

 

"I'm going with you," D'Artagnan insisted.

 

"You are not." Athos held firm. "We just got you back. I do not want you anywhere near that disgusting creature. Do you understand me?"

 

D'Artagnan opened his mouth to argue, only to see the pain in Athos' eyes and he understood that he needed to give in for once. His friends needed to know that he was safe and he could do that for him, even if he didn't like being left out. And it wasn't as if he did not trust them to capture Madame GiGi. D'Artagnan knew they would not return without her. So even though he wanted desperately to go with them, he nodded. "I understand." Stepping back, he heaved a sigh as he watched them go.

 

* * *

 

D'Artagnan's return had not gone unnoticed. A member of the Red Guard had seen him riding into the Garrison. He knew that the young Musketeer had gone missing and that the King had ordered a search for him. The Cardinal had asked to be informed if anyone spotted the Gascon, and the Red Guard figured it was his lucky day. Surely the Cardinal would reward him. 

 

He wasn't wrong. The Cardinal tossed him a bag of coins after questioning him sharply and assuring him that he would let the King know that he was the one to have seen D'Artagnan. But the Cardinal had a job for him to do first. He was to go to D'Artagnan and inform him that the King wished an audience with him immediately. 

 

"I wish for you to escort D'Artagnan yourself," The Cardinal instructed. "But bring him to my private residence. We want to keep the King's favorite Musketeer safe from any further kidnapping attempts. 

 

After assuring the Cardinal that he would do his bidding straight away, the Red Guard was sent on his way, the door closing loudly behind him.

 

The moment they were alone, the Cardinal turned to Madame Gigi. "I thought you had the boy locked away safe and sound?" He did not even try to hide his fury.

 

"He was!" Madame GiGi was as angry as the Cardinal. More so. When she got a hold of her guards they were going to wish they were dead. A few of them would be anyway. "He was safely out of Paris and no one was following us."

 

"Then he's more clever than he looks because apparently he got away on his own." The Cardinal began pacing. "If he's back, he's told the Musketeers about you. They will come for you." And he had no intention of letting her connect him to D'Artagnan's kidnapping in any way. 

 

Madame GiGi looked alarmed. "What do you suggest I do? I will not give D'Artagnan up, nor will I suffer the King's wrath."

 

The Cardinal had expected her to request his assistance, and he had a plan at the ready. As always. "D'Artagnan will go to meet with the King. Intercept his escort and take him away for good this time. If you fail this time, I will not be able to help you."

 

"I understand." Madame GiGi was no fool. Knowing that their other business was finished for now, she gathered her skirts and left. When she had D'Artagnan back in her grasp, the young Musketeer would be punished. He would regret trying to escape. But a smile curved her lips, as she glided down the palace steps. For her part, breaking the beautiful boy would be most enjoyable.

 

* * *

 

 

D'Artagnan was pacing around the table in the Garrison when the Red Guard appeared with word that the King wished an immediate audience. Treville had informed D'Artagnan how King Louis had demanded he be found at all cost and that had surprised the young Musketeer to no end. So he did not question the request, a fact he would come to regret later.

 

He was about to ask to let Treville know, but the Captain leaned over the balcony, having seen the Red Guard approaching. He had heard everything. "Go quickly and safe return," he told the Gascon. "If we were to lose you again, the others would not be pleased. Nor would I."

 

"I will keep him safe," the Red Guard was quick to reassure them both. He had no love for the Musketeers, but he was fond of the coin the Cardinal had given him and he would not risk the man's wrath, which would no doubt mean the loss of his sudden wealth.

 

"I won't be long," D'Artagnan promised, as he mounted and rode off with the Red Guard. He was surprised when the other man led the way down an unfamiliar path. But before he could make any comment he found himself surrounded and swarmed by masked men that moved like the shadows themselves. He didn't even have time to pull his sword when he was yanked from his saddle, then pain exploded in his temple and D'artagnan fell into darkness.

 

The Red Guard was stunned by the appearance of the masked men but had no chance to defend himself either. He was dragged from his horse and died quickly when a dagger pierced his heart. He didn't feel the hands that relieved him of his weapons and his coin before he was dragged away. It would be several days before anyone realized he was missing and his body never would be found.

 

No one saw the scuffle happen, nor did anyone take any notice of the small carriage that made it's way slowly out of Paris.

 

* * *

 

The Musketeers had no luck in finding Madame GiGi, so they were returning to the Garrison, only to catch sight of the woman entering a black carriage. 

 

"Do we stop her?" Porthos asked, as he patted his horse's neck to calm the animal. They were all wound up and feeling anxious. Although pleased that D'Artagnan was back and that he had suffered no serious harm, they were angry at what the Duchess of Roth had attempted to do to him, and they were determined to shut her down.

 

"No!" Athos ordered, knowing that the others were surprised. "Let's follow her instead. She looks like a woman on a mission. I'm guessing she might lead us to her camp. D'Artagnan is free, but perhaps we'll find the others she has enslaved."

 

Aramis nodded. "That works for me." He gestured for Athos to precede them. "Lead the way."

 

And so it was they followed discreetly behind the wagon. They traveled east of Paris and eventually found themselves slipping behind the cover of an copse of trees as they watched the Carriage arrive at an estate. Another carriage was already there, dislodging it's passengers. 

 

"So this is where she lives?" Porthos queried.

 

"So it would seem," Aramis allowed. "Although I had heard that she never stays in one place. This isn't her estate home, perhaps a summer home?"

 

Athos had been listening, but most of his attention was on the first carriage. He watched as two men pulled another out, an unconscious figure that was tossed over the shoulder of the larger man. "D'Artagnan!" he hissed, for he would recognize the young man anywhere, even in the relative darkness. In that moment he also recognized the larger man as Bolo, Madame GiGi's personal guard. 

 

Aramis and Porthos snapped their attention to the Carriage, seeing the Gascon as well. 

 

"They've kidnapped him again," Porthos snarled.

 

"But how?" Aramis countered. 

 

It was a question they would ask again later. For now they had to rescue the young Musketeer. But Athos grabbed the reins to Porthos' mount when the big man tried to gallop off.

 

Yanking the reins back, Porthos snarled, "What are we waiting for? D'Artagnan's in trouble!"

 

"And what use will we be to him if we get captured as well?" Athos replied, refusing to lose his own temper. He was worried for the boy, but he knew they needed a plan. "I have no doubt but that we are outnumbered," he continued, knowing that Porthos would be able to see reason once it was explained. "We need to figure out our best course of action."

 

"Of course," Porthos conceded, nodding an apology to his friend. "I'm just worried."

 

Aramis clapped Porthos on the shoulder. "We all are. But at least we know where D'Artagnan is this time. We'll get him out and take him home. Then perhaps lock him in his room?"

 

Athos let a small smile curve his lips. "A most excellent idea," he allowed. "Now, let us approach with caution and learn how many opponents we are up against."

 

"I'm ready," Porthos stated. And this time he led the way.

 

* * *

 

 

D'Artagnan sensed something was amiss and he jolted to awareness. His head ached worse than before and he was aware of being prone, instead of being mounted on his horse. Which was the last thing he remembered. Riding out with the Red Guard to see the King. No, wait...he remembered a swarm of masked men yanking him off his horse, a blow to his head, then darkness. 

 

Instinct told him he was not alone, so it was no surprise when he opened his eyes, to find two figures looming beside the huge bed he was lying on. What he had not expected was that Madame GiGi would be glaring at him. "Not again," D'Artagnan mumbled, as he forced his aching body to move to his command. After a moment of struggle he was able to sit up, but he fought a bout of nausea and dizziness for his attempt.

 

"You've been a very naughty boy, beautiful," Madame GiGi chided. Her tone was rather playful, but it was underlined with anger. 

 

"Can't say I'm sorry," D'Artagnan shot back, wincing as pain stabbed through his temples. He pressed a hand to his face and wished for this to be nothing more than a bad dream.

 

Moving to sit on the edge of the bed, Madame GiGi reached out to rest one hand on D'Artagnan's thigh, before dancing her fingers up and down from hip to thigh and back again. "I'm going to have to punish you," she sing-songed.

 

D'Artagnan felt his skin crawl at her touch so he grabbed her wrist, yanking her hand off him. "Good luck with that!" he snarled. 

 

"How pleasant, or unpleasant your punishment is is up to you, D'Artagnan," Madame GiGi replied, tugging her hand free. Only to attempt to touch him again, this time reaching for his shirt ties. 

 

"Don't touch me!" D'Artagnan hissed, scrambling away from her. He moved across the bed and off the other side, feeling less vulnerable while on his feet with the bed between them. Only he had forgotten about the other person in the room until strong arms wrapped around him, pinning D'Artagnan against a rock-hard chest. He struggled against the hold, but in vain, managing only to make his head ache fiercely to the point where he felt light-headed and weak. Ultimately he found himself slumped against Bolo's relentless grip.

 

Looking pleased, Madame GiGi sauntered over to D'Artagnan, fingertips brushing stray locks of hair off his forehead. "My poor, beautiful, darling," she cooed. "I'll take care of you. Put him on the bed, Bolo," she instructed her body guard.

 

Feeling himself being lifted off his feet, with far to great an ease, D'Artagnan struggled again in earnest. But he was too worn out and his head felt as if it were about to explode. He might even have blacked out for a moment, must have in fact, for the next thing he knew he was on the bed and Madame GiGi was attempting to undress him.

 

"No!" D'Artagnan hissed, pushing her hands off him, only for Bolo to grab his wrists, pinning his hands over his head. Which sent fear spiking through D'Artagnan, for as hard as he struggled he didn't have the strength to stop what was happening.

 

"Let him go!" Ordered a familiar voice. A voice loud and tight with coiled anger ready to be unleashed.

 

Madame GiGi stared at the Musketeer in the doorway, shocked by his appearance. "Finish him, Bolo!" she ordered.

 

The Body Guard smiled as he released D'Artagnan in favor of drawing his sword.

 

"Prepare to die tonight," Athos warned, his own sword at the ready. Shooting the bodyguard would have been faster and easier, but far less honorable. Plus, given what he had seen happening as he entered the room, stabbing the bastard would be far more satisfying. 

 

With his hands free, and Bolo occupied with Athos, D'Artagnan was able to push Madame GiGi off of him. He rolled off the bed and nearly hit the floor. By the time he had steadied himself on his feet, Madame GiGi had disappeared. He searched about the room, getting distracted by the sword fight happening before him.

 

Not surprisingly, Athos had the upper hand. For all he was constantly reminding D'Artagnan to keep his emotions under control while fighting, Athos looked furious as his sword cut through the air. Steel clanged against steel, relentlessly until the older Musketeer finally tired of playing with his foe and, with a precise and deadly lunge and strike, he pierced Bolo through the heart. 

 

The big gypsy froze for a moment, skewered upon Athos' sword. Until the Musketeer yanked it free and Bolo crumpled to the floor and lay still. 

 

Athos wiped the blade clean on the body guard's chest, then turned to D'Artagnan, running to his side. "Are you all right?"

 

"I'm fine," D'Artagnan lied, because he never felt comfortable admitting to any form of weakness in front of the other man. "Madame GiGi got away! We have to find her!" He made to lead the way from the room when Aramis popped in, smiling.

 

"Did you lose someone?" he asked, before stepping aside from the doorway, before dramatically sweeping one arm at the entrance.

 

Where Porthos entered a moment later, Madame GiGi wriggling helplessly in his grasp. "We found her trying to run away. Which is very rude, don't you think?"

 

Athos looked pleased. "Quite rude," he quipped, playing along. Bolo was dead, he was certain Porthos and Aramis had dealt with the few guards that had been left before he'd left them to find D'Artagnan. Their wayward Musketeer was safe and Madame GiGi was in their custody. A good end to what had started off as a terrible day.

 

"How did you find me?" D'Artagnan asked. For although he was happy they had come to rescue him, he was surprised that they had found him so quickly.

 

"We got lucky," Aramis replied. "We saw the Duchess here getting into a carriage and heading out of Paris as we were returning in our search for her. So we followed her and she led us here. As we arrived we so her guard taking you out of another carriage."

 

Athos interjected at that moment, eyes locked on D'Artagnan. "Care to explain how you came to be kidnapped yet again? I believe we had left you safe in the Garrison."

 

D'Artagnan winced, knowing that Athos was not happy with him. Hopefully more out of concern than anger, but still. Who else would get themselves kidnapped twice? To be honest, D'Artagnan still found it impossible to wrap his head around why it had happened at all. "I was in the Garrison," he allowed. "But one of the Red Guard came with a message from the King. He wanted an audience with me at once. Treville told me to go because the King had been worried about me. Although I can't understand why he was worried. He doesn't even know me and I'm just..." D'Artagnan broke off abruptly, realizing with sudden embarrassment that he was rambling. He hung his head, feeling weary to the bone. "Sorry," he muttered.

 

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Porthos reassured him. He shook Madame GiGi a bit. "This one here is the only one to blame, and she'll have to face King Louis' wrath. I pity her."

 

"Bring me to the King!" she snarled, snapping out of the dumbstruck state she had been in only moments ago upon seeing Bolo dead on the floor. "The Cardinal will protect me! You'll see!" She glared at D'Artagnan. "You will not be safe from me, boy! I will find you again and you will -- " 

 

Whatever else she might have said was cut off by Athos' hand clapped over her mouth. Her eyes went wide with fear as he leaned in and whispered, "If by the Grace of God you manage not to die for what you have already done, be assured that should you touch, or ever attempt to touch, D'Artagnan again...I will slit your throat."

 

Madame GiGi swallowed hard before nodding vigorously, no doubt in an attempt to assure him that she understood his threat. But when Athos released her she stammered, "The Cardinal will not be pleased with...with your...threats."

 

"Rest assured, Madame, that was no threat. It was...a promise," Athos drawled. And with that he ordered, "Get her out of here!"

 

"Gladly," Porthos replied, as he dragged Madame GiGi out of the house and into her carriage for the ride back to Paris.

 

D'Artagnan was happy to see her go. He turned to Athos and Aramis. "Thank you for your timely arrival." He could still feel her hands all over him and it made his skin crawl. 

 

Aramis clapped him on the shoulder, only to look stunned when D'Artagnan stumbled. "Are you allright?" he asked, as he grabbed the young Musketeer by the arm to steady him.

 

"I'm fine, just tired," D'Artagnan replied, gaining his balance once more. "Could we go now?" As he asked, he headed for the door. More than anything he wanted to go home to his bed. Only he suddenly remembered something. "My weapons! And..."

 

"We found your things," Athos interjected. "They're in the carriage you were brought here in." 

 

D'artagnan was both pleased and relieved. All the more so when they were on their way back to Paris.

 

Treville was pleased to see them all return, D'Artagnan in particular since he had become worried when the young Musketeer never returned from his audience with the King. Going so far as to go to the Palace himself to check on D'Artagnan. He was also happy to learn that they had captured Madame GiGi. Porthos had trussed her up from head to toe and left her in the carriage resting just outside the entrance to the Garrison.

 

"Imagine my surprise to learn you had never arrived," Treville continued. "And my concern when the King informed me that he hadn't even been aware of your return, so he had not sent for you. However, he would like to see you now. He made me promise that the moment you were back you were to go directly to the Palace."

 

"He needs to rest," Aramis spoke up in D'Artagnan's defense. He had been watching the boy on the ride back and he knew D'Artagnan was hurting and exhauseted.

 

Treville nodded. "I'm sure he is, but he can rest after his audience with the King."

 

When it looked like Athos was about to protest, D'Artagnan spoke up. "It's fine. I'll go." He made mount again, only for Treville to pull him aside. 

 

"Take a moment and I'll have a fresh mount saddled," the Captain told him.

 

"Have four horses saddled," Athos countered. "We're going with him." He wasn't about to let D'Artagnan out of his sight again. He knew none of them would allow it. Not for a time anyway.

 

D'Artagnan felt both touched and a bit irritated by the concern. "I'm perfectly capable of going on my own."

 

Porthos snorted. "Says the boy who got kidnapped twice in one day."

 

"That was not my fault!" D'Artagnan protested, whirling to glare at Porthos. Only to find himself swaying on his feet. Strong hands guided him to a bench and made him sit. He heard Aramis shouting for someone to get him some water. D'Artagnan didn't argue when a cup was thrust into his hands. He drank deeply before letting the cup be taken away and letting his head fall into his hands. He was so tired he could feel the weariness like an ache deep in his bones. But he would do what needed to be done and see the King. Then he would sleep for two days, if they let him.

 

"Let him rest for a moment," Treville stated. "I have a bit more news to tell you. " He pulled a folded paper from his tunic and held it up. "This was delivered to me by a street urchin, soon after you left with the Red Guard, D'Artagnan."

 

Lifting his head at the sound of his name, D'Artagnan stared at the paper. "What is it?"

 

Treville unfolded it then held it out to the Gascon. "Read it."

 

"It says that the Raiders are actually gypsies who work for Madame Gigi," D'Artagnan said, after scanning the note. "And it tells where to find them."

 

"Who sent it?" Athos queried.

 

Treville shook his head. "The child said a man in a cloak gave him a sous to deliver it to me. But to make a long story short, I sent out a dozen Musketeers and the Raiders who survived the battle are now ensconsed in the Chatelay."

 

D'Artagnan gasped as he realized who must have sent the note. Milady DeWinter. But he said nothing as he handed it back to the Captain. "Can we go now?" he asked, as the stable boy brought out the fresh horses. The sooner they met with the King the sooner he could return and go to sleep.

 

"Go," Treville allowed. "I'll see to it that the Duchess of Roth is delivered to the Chatelay. I'll let you all explain to the King what happened." With that he waved them off.

 

The trip to the Palace was made in silence, each Musketeer lost in thought. Upon their arrival, D'Artagnan took a moment to straighten his attire, while Athos checked him over and made certain that the dagger the King had given him was prominently displayed. "You look as presentable as someone who's been kidnapped repeatedly can look," Athos announced.

 

D'Artagnan would have glared at him, but he lacked the energy to do so. He simply brushed past him to enter the Palace. They only had to wait a few minutes before the King was ready to receive them. It was daylight, but D'Artagnan had lost track of the actual time. As he pondered asking Aramis if he knew, a page appeared to escort them before the King.

 

The Queen was also present and looked amused as Louis leapt off his chair to greet the Musketeers. But his focus was on the youngest. "I'm glad that you have returned, D'Artagnan," he stated, even before the Gascon could properly bow to him. "I dislike being worried."

 

"I am sorry to have caused any concern, your Majesty," D'Artagnan replied.

 

"Just don't do it again," Louis countered, literally bouncing on his toes. He pointed to the dagger sheathed on D'Artagnan's belt. "Do you like your gift?" he asked excitedly.

 

D'Artagnan touched the sheath before nodding. "I do, your Majesty. It is a most magnificent gift and I am beyond honored by your generosity and thoughtfulness." He did so hope his response was proper and appropriate, because the pounding in his head made it difficult to think clearly.

 

Louis was thrilled, clapping his hand and grinning widely, obviously pleased. "I knew you would like it. Use it well in my name."

 

"I shall, your Majesty," D'Artagnan replied, only to find himself tilting to one side. He felt strong hands catch him, steadying him on his feet. He recognized Porthos' bulk, hovering now.

 

"Is he ill?" the King asked, looking worried.

 

Athos replied, "It has been a long day for him, Your Majesty."

 

Louis nodded. "Go and take care of him then." He studied D'Artagnan for a moment then said, "I wish for you to return when you are well."

 

"I will return, your Majesty," D'Artagnan promised, managing to ground himself well enough to offer a proper bow before letting Porthos guide him out. He did not remember much of the ride home, other than focusing on keeping his seating.

 

D'Artagnan had no real memory of returning to his room and being fussed over by Aramis. He missed the vigil the three kept over him as he slept. He did not come back to awareness until late the next day and he stayed awake long enough to take care of his needs and swallow a cup of water. Sleep came easily to him and he embraced it, until the nightmares hit him. They had no rhyme or reason, just vision after vision of his father dying and Constance sending him away. He relived Milady holding Constance hostage. The moment when Athos shot him. Holding Constance in his arms and her apology for sending him away with lies, only for a bullet to slam into her back. D'Artagnan jerked awake to the image of Constance dying in his arms, his hands covered in her blood.

 

"D'Artagnan?" It was Athos who touched his shoulder, his voice conveying his concern.

 

Rubbing at his eyes, D'Artagnan willed the images away. It took a moment to shake off the fear, but after a moment he looked at the Musketeer and offered a smile. "I'm good. Sorry."

 

Athos patted his shoulder. "We all suffer nightmares. Do you wish to talk about it?" 

 

"No." D'Artagnan wanted only to forget. He pushed himself upright, surprised at how light-headed he felt. And he must have said that out loud because Athos chuckled and replied, 

 

"You haven't eaten in a couple of days, so no doubt hunger is to blame." Moving to the table in the corner, Athos returned with a cup. "Aramis gave me strict orders to make you finish this broth when you awakened. " He held it out and glared until D'Artagnan accepted it.

 

Staring into the cup, D'Artagnan knew he should take a sip, but his stomach clenched and nausea overwhelmed him. He thrust the cup back at Athos, desperate to get the smell away from him. "I can't," he whispered. "Please."

 

Athos took it back and set it aside, before focusing back on D'Artagnan. "Perhaps I should send for Aramis."

 

"NO!" D'Artagnan protested, for he did not desire to be fussed over. "Just give me a moment. I'm fine."

 

"You look better," Athos allowed. "But I'm not sure I would concede that you are fine. You had us worried."

 

D'Artagnan shoved aside the blanket he was surprised to realize was draped over him and set his feet onto the floor. He gave himself a moment to adjust to the movement, letting the sudden dizzineness ease. He thought about rising to his feet, but decided to wait a moment. Instead he looked at Athos. "There's something I have to tell you."

 

Athos looked curious, but he nodded as he moved to grab the chair and bring it over to the bed. Once settled he gestured for D'Artagnan to begin.

 

"You might get angry," D'Artagnan warned. "But know that I didn't tell you sooner because we didn't get a chance to speak in private what with everything that happened since I was first...taken."

 

"Go on." Athos full attention was focused on D'Artagnan.

 

To the point where it made him feel almost uncomfortable. But he gathered himself for a moment, then blurted out, "Milady DeWinter helped me to escape from Madame GiGi the first time. And I think she's the one who sent Treville the note about the raiders being Madame GiGi's men. She seemed to know a lot about what was going on. I don't know how she found me, to be honest. But I will admit to being grateful. I wouldn't have made it back without her help. I mean, I got free on my own, but Madame GiGi's men came after me and I didn't have a weapon or a horse."

 

Athos put up a hand to halt D'Artagnan's babbling. "Take a breath," he advised him, an amused smile curving his lips. "I am not angry...at you."

 

"You don't look all that surprised either," D'Artagnan countered, wondering if that was a good thing or a bad thing. He was pretty sure what he said next would make Athos angry. "I asked her why she helped me and she said perhaps because it put me in her debt."

 

"I believe she's been keeping watch over you," Athos drawled, rising from the chair and pacing about the room. His tone was quiet, but his body was taut and nearly vibrating with tension.

 

D'Artagnan shook his head. "But why? Why stay here and risk death? It makes no sense."

 

Athos stopped pacing, fists clenched and eyes closed as he fought the anger inside him. "She wants something from you, although I cannot guess at what. But she would not risk death without a plan and, as much as it pains me to say this, I am grateful to her for saving you."

 

"Perhaps that is her plan?" D'Artagnan offered. "I owe her a debt and you feel indebted to her by gratitude, although you should not waste it on me."

 

"Idiot boy!" Athos hissed, only just staying his hand from cuffing D'Artagnan on the back of his head. The Musketeer knew that boy had suffered a concussion and he did not want to do him more harm. But he was tempted to shake some sense into him. Instead he heaved a sigh and moved to sit beside D'Artagnan, wondering how to convince the miserable child that he was worthy. 

 

D'Artagnan heaved his own sigh and spoke before Athos could. "What if her plan is to use me to get to you...again? I won't deny but that she scares me. I'm grateful to her for helping me, but now I feel as if I cannot avoid paying back the debt in some way."

 

Athos understood and he felt the same way and that terrified him. Not for his own sake, but for D'Artagnan's. He knew his wife could not be trusted and he wished he knew what she wanted from them both. "We will keep our eyes open and watch each other's backs," Athos stated. "We will be vigilant at all times. Whatever she has planned, she will fail. That I promise you."

 

Before D'Artagnan could respond, the door open and Aramis entered.

 

"You're awake," he exclaimed, upon seeing D'Artagnan sitting up.

 

"I am," D'Artagnan allowed, smiling at his friend. 

 

Aramis looked pleased, until he saw the mug full of soup, but it was Athos he glared at. "You were supposed to make him drink that."

 

Athos shrugged, rising from the bed to lean against the far wall, arms crossed over his chest as he drawled, "I would have but I did not care to have him vomit on my boots."

 

"You feel sick?" Aramis' irritation turned swiftly to concern. He moved to kneel before D'Artagnan, cupping the Gascon's face in both hands. Checking his eyes and for a fever at the same time.

 

"I'm fine!" D'Artagnan assured him, resisting the urge to glare at Athos. "I'm just not hungry yet. I will eat later."

 

Aramis nodded. "Yes, you will. Other than no appetite, how do you feel? Does your head still ache?"

 

D'Artagnan took a moment to consider. He knew better than to lie in this moment, but he didn't want his friends to worry about him either. "My head aches a bit and I'm tired, but I'm much better. I really am fine."

 

"You will be after a couple of days more of rest," Aramis allowed. He rose to his feet, his eyes still watching D'Artagnan. "Something is bothering you though," he prompted.

 

"I still don't understand why this happened," D'Artagnan confessed. And he spoke the truth. He was worried about Milady DeWinter being back and hovering over him like a dark shadow, but he also felt bothered by the events of the past two days. That Madame GiGi had kidnapped him and her intentions for him left D'Artagnan reeling. He still felt uncomfortable and somewhat vulnerable, in more ways than one. He did not like feeling so unsettled.

 

Aramis clapped him on the shoulder. "There is no sense to be made of it really," he stated. "It's simply the price we pay for beauty, my boy." 

 

Athos snorted as D'Artagnan stared at Aramis in disbelief.

 

"When you're better, I'll teach you how to use your looks for the sake of good," Aramis continued, blithely unaware of the reactions he was causing. 

 

D'Artagnan stared at Athos in desperation. 

 

The older Musketeer took head of D'Artagnan's silent pleading. Moving to Aramis he directed him out of the room as he handed him some coin. "Go with Porthos and fetch dinner. D'Artagnan will get cleaned up and by the time you return I'm sure he'll feel up to joining us." 

 

"That's a good plan," Aramis conceded and, with a jaunty wave, he was off.

 

"He scares me sometimes," D'Artagnan confessed, only half teasing.

 

Athos nodded, smiling. "He is...mostly...harmless. He's not wrong though. Your looks can get you into as much trouble as your arrogance. The latter you can learn to control better." His tone was chiding but his eyes glittered with amusement to take any sting out of his words, even though he was implying a lesson to be learned. "As for the former, learn to use your looks as a weapon. Women use their beauty to manipulate people into doing what they want, or into seeing what they want them to see. Aramis does the same. Let him teach you to use that particular power wisely."

 

D'Artagnan rolled his eyes, stopping only when he realized the motion made his head ache more. "You both talk a lot of rubbish." He wasn't blind. His looks were nothing special.

 

"Some day you will see yourself as others see you," Athos countered. "And you will be surprised, D'Artagnan. Mark my words." With that he strolled out the door, leaving the young Musketeer alone with his thoughts.

 

Which was the last thing D'Artagnan wanted. So he rose to his feet and and gathered his things. Just outside the Garrison was a small tavern with a big tub. The widow who ran the Tavern let him use it as often as he wished and only asked that he refill the buckets of water that he used. She even supplied the soap...

 

"Oh!" It hit D'Artagnan in that moment what Athos and Aramis were trying to tell him. He had always wondered why she never asked for any coin and now he felt terribly self-conscious. But not so much so that he was willing to give up his baths. Heaving a sigh, D'Artagnan headed out the door. Some day he would learn to accept that Athos was always right.

 

Well, almost always.

 

So caught up in his thoughts was D'Artagnan, that he never noticed Athos leaning against the cross post, smiling as he watched him go.

 

THE END


End file.
